


your past so present you can feel your baby teeth

by astrovagant



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora also has PTSD, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - The Horde is a Cult, Autistic Entrapta, Catra has BPD, Catra has PTSD, Entrapta has Osteogenesis Imperfecta, F/F, Gen, Scorpia has EDS, They have CPTSD in particular, Trans Adora (She-Ra), Trans Bow (She-Ra), Trauma and Healing, background Glim/Bow, background glimbow - Freeform, she just deals with it differently, which uh the horde is canonically a cult anyway so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:55:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24860422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrovagant/pseuds/astrovagant
Summary: "This year has been the hardest of your whole life. So hard you cannot see a future, most days. The pain is bigger than anything else.Takes up the whole horizon, no matter where you are. You feel unsafe, you feel unsaved. Your past so present you can feel your baby teeth. Sitting on the couch, you swear your feet don't reach the floor."- "Angels of The Get-Through", by Andrew Gibson.Adora left the Home a week after her eighteenth birthday in search of a life where she didn't have to hide who she was. But despite having braved a whole new world and built a life all of her own, she still has regrets. One of those regrets is leaving her best friend behind.When Catra calls her on the burner phone hidden in her bag, Adora jumps at the prospect of a new beginning. But healing isn't easy, and Catra has demons of her own to conquer. She can't do it alone.A story about growth, healing, and learning to live again after living your whole life in the shadows of an abusive cult.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No content warnings for this chapter. Though as a blanket warning, this fic addresses abuse and trauma, as well as cults.

“Lies and slander!”

Glimmer crosses her arms defensively before blowing a large bubble with her faded pink gum. It makes a distinct popping sound as she bites down on it, “It’s true and you know it. You’re obviously lawful good. You cried like a baby when we got sent to the principal's office that one time in third grade.”

Bow frowns, “Glim. We were _eight_.”

“I mean, yeah, but everyone knows that eight-year-olds are open books. Right Adora?”

Adora blinks.

“Uh. I mean…”

“See, Glimmer! Adora agrees with me.”

“I didn’t say that…”

“See Bow, Adora agrees with _me_.”

Adora stifles a sigh. The truth was that she’d barely even grasped the question to begin with. What sort of eight-year-old cries when they’re in trouble? You’re supposed to school your features and dutifully take whatever punishment you’re given, right? Adora knew to do that by the time she was four.

But Adora doesn’t say that. Bow and Glimmer are different than she is—they had normal childhoods, for the most part. Sometimes, Adora wonders if anyone in the world feels as alien as she does interacting with people like them, which is practically everyone she encounters. She ignores the bitter taste in her mouth at the memories.

But that was then, she reminds herself. She’s out now. It’s been two years since she lived in Sarah Weaver’s shadow. Two years since she tip-toed through the echoing halls of the Home, overstuffed duffle bag in hand.

Nearly two years since she decided what she wanted to call herself.

“Adora? It’s your turn,” Glimmer says, expressive eyebrows drawn in a still-unfamiliar concern, “You okay?”

Adora takes in the scene in front of her. The many-sided dice, glittering iridescent purple in the dim lighting of the apartment. The popcorn sitting in a bowl on the floor next to Bow. The precise miniatures of herself and her friends, hand-painted by Bow with loving, nimble fingers. 

She smiles.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

And she really is.

They don’t fall asleep until two AM—once Glimmer doses off on Bow’s shoulder and Bow starts nodding off, Adora takes her leave. She gets into bed, melting into her soft, worn sheets, and she doesn’t dream.

{1}

Adora holds back a sigh, eyes drawn towards the time displayed on the bottom right corner of her clunky laptop before diligently returning to the front of the classroom, where her teacher is lecturing about sixteenth century Spain. It’s half past nine AM, and her stomach is probably growling loud enough for her teacher to hear from the next state over. She silently curses her roommate’s night owl ways and the enticing allure of a late-night DnD session causing her to miss her morning run and be five minutes late to class and then forces herself to tune into the teacher’s monotone voice. 

She’s two pages into her history notes and halfway through the lecture when the ringing starts. It must be one of her neighbor’s phones, because it sounds close. 

“I would appreciate it if you turned off your phones before the start of class. It’s in the syllabus,” the teacher says, dropping her monotone in favor of barely hidden irritation. Adora winces in secondhand pity for the poor soul who left their phone on this morning, furtively looking around to see who dives into their bag to silence it. 

It takes longer than it should for her to realize that no one is checking their bags. It takes even longer for her to realize that everyone in the aisle is looking at her. She blushes fast and hot, clumsy fingers searching the inside of the inside of her bag for the pocket where she keeps her worn smartphone.

Only, it isn’t even vibrating.

Oh.

She dives into her bag again, reaching near the bottom until her fingers wrap around another phone—an older model this time.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I have to take this,” she says, standing up and grabbing her bag. She nearly trips over her long limbs on the way out in her hurry. Once she finally reaches the hallway, she brings the phone to her ear with shaking hands, “Hello?”

“Addie?”

Tears spring to Adora’s eyes, and she has to hold back a sob at the name that rushes to her lips, “Catra?”

“Addie, I need your help. Can you pick me up?”

“Of course,” Adora breathes unsteadily, “Where are you?”

“I’m in Bright Moon, at the Greyhound station. Near entry six.”

“I’m on my way,” Adora promises, “Do you want me to stay on the phone? I don’t drive, so I’ll have to call an rideshare.”

Adora can hear Catra smiling in her own Catra way, “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll see you in a bit. You can’t miss me.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and Addie?”

“What?”

“Nevermind. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“I’ll call you when I get there. You might not be able to recognize me. Don’t be too shocked, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you when I see you.”

When Adora hangs up the phone, there’s a smile on her face the size of the sun. Maybe there’s hope for Catra, after all. Maybe she can move past It too. Just like Adora did.

No matter what, Adora will be there every step of the way. Catra deserves that much, at least.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for mentions of violence. This whole fic has a blanket content warning for abuse and cults.

Catra’s smile fades as she drops the phone from her ear. Gripping it tighter, she tries to ignore the way her hands shake—the only tell of her distress that she can’t seem to hide from anyone. When that doesn’t work, she shoves them in her pockets, hunching deeper into her oversized hoodie. 

She’d bought it at the gift shop a few minutes ago for twenty-five dollars and ninety-nine cents. A waste of money, if you asked Catra. But it’s warm and hides the tell-tale gray of her Church-issued pajama top, which makes it somewhat useful. It’s a pleasant shade of lilac, she supposes, with blue lettering and the insignia of Bright Moon University on the front. She has her hood pulled up, two unruly braids hidden underneath the fabric. Hopefully, she looks just like any college student returning to the city. 

With a barely-concealed sigh, she forces herself to sit down on an empty bench near the vending machines instead of obeying her body’s desire to pace back and forth, which would definitely attract attention. She places her hands in her lap and then stares at them like they hold the answers to the mysteries of the universe. Her nails are chipped. She can’t help but notice the tiny, dark-red specks of blood underneath her pointer finger. She must’ve gotten Octavia good, judging by the large amount of blood she’d had to wash off her hands in the bathroom of the train station back home.

Home. Now _that_ was an interesting way to think of where she’d come from. She’d lived in that city her whole life, but hadn’t seen much of it at all—most of her memories were of the foreboding gray walls keeping her separate from the world beyond them. Catra could count the times that she’d left the Home for anything other than trying to convince others to join the Church on one hand. They’d only really left for the occasional field trip, where they gave out pamphlets to unsuspecting visitors at the local library. Even the Church was on-site. 

Tearing her eyes away from her still-trembling fingers, she casts a furtive glance towards the people departing the most recent train. There’s a strong chance that she’s been followed, or that she will be once Octavia comes to and tells Ms. Weaver that she’s gone. But it’s a few hours drive from the city she came from, so hopefully she has time.

She isn’t sure how long she’s been sitting there when her pocket vibrates. 

“Hey,” she says after taking a deep breath and willing the anxiety she knows is permeating from her being away. It comes out even, almost casual, but Addie knows her well, so maybe she can tell the difference.

“I’m here. Just got out of the Lyft. I told the driver to wait. Figured you didn’t wanna stay too long. What are you wearing?”

“I’m wearing a purple hoodie with the college logo on it,” Catra says, walking towards the double-doorway, “I’ll meet you by the exit.”

“Sounds good.”

The cool winter air meets Catra as the automatic doors slide open. She squints a bit in the sunlight, still used to the artificial lighting of the station. She’s not quite sure what she should be looking for—Addie said she’d look different. Catra wonders just how different someone who she’s known her whole life can look.

There’s a girl with blonde hair standing next to a blue car. Catra’s never had great eyes, so she can’t quite see her face from where she is. She wears a red jacket and cargo pants, her hair pulled into a high ponytail. The last time Catra saw Addie, she’d had short hair and been wearing men's clothes, but somehow Catra instinctively knows who she’s looking at anyway.

“Addie?” she breathes into the receiver. The girl looks around at this, clunky old phone still held to her ear. Catra takes off her hood, displaying the wild locks escaping from her braids.

It’s as though everything turns to slow motion. Addie looks in her direction and then freezes. Catra doesn’t have to have good vision to know that she’s smiling. They meet each other halfway.

“Catra,” Addie says, and Catra almost starts crying then and there at the tenderness in her voice, “It’s so good to see you.”

As they hug, Catra buries her face in Addie’s chest and takes in her scent. She smells more like home than the orphanage ever did. And that’s when Catra knows she made the right decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, an update! Amazing. Don't know when the next one will be. Hopefully soon.
> 
> Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed! Please review!
> 
> Much love,  
> Aster


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora and Catra have a chat. Toast is (not) cooked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for implied/referenced transphobia (specifically transmisogyny). I can't think of anything else.

The drive home is silent save for the Lyft driver’s address confirmation. Adora finds herself wishing, not for the first time, that she could afford a car. But driving makes her anxious and cars are expensive. It’s easier to rely on public transportation and the occasional rideshare, especially when most of her activities are on campus.

It takes all of Adora’s effort to not stare at the girl sitting next to her. Catra probably wouldn’t notice, her own eyes glued to the window. She’s smaller than Adora remembers, made even tinier by the ill-fitting hoodie. Adora’s memory is far from perfect, but the night she left plays in her mind in full technicolor. It was the most terrifying night of her life.

Some nights, when she’s feeling off-balance, she’ll dream of being caught leaving. Nothing particularly scary or dangerous happens in the dreams, but the oppressive silence on the walk back to her room is enough to make her wake up feeling like she’s run a marathon. Trying to sleep again on those nights seems scarier than a day of sleep deprivation, so she usually puts on some workout clothes and goes for a run. The surge of endorphins is more effective than the pills are and has the added benefit of not making her feel like she’s being dragged underwater by force.

They reach their destination quickly. The apartment complex is deserted, with most of its inhabitants still at work or school and the rest locked inside of their tiny houses. Catra shoulders her backpack before following behind Adora, her steps as light as ever against the concrete sidewalk. 

“Here we are! Home sweet home,” Adora says with false cheer as she opens the door. Bow and Glimmer aren’t home yet and won’t be for a while. Adora determinedly ignores the fact that she’s missing her College Algebra class. School is important, but not as important as this.

“It’s nice,” Catra says, still standing in the doorway and holding the strap of her backpack in a death grip. Her eyes are drawn to the corkboard by the door covered in pictures and post-it notes. 

“Thanks,” says Adora. Catra doesn’t say anything else, still studying the pictures on the wall. 

“Um, that’s Bow and Glimmer. They live here too. They won’t be back til later, though. Why don’t you sit down?”

Catra nods, slouching down onto the couch in her trademark way. If Adora didn’t know her better, she’d almost say she looks at home. But Adora’s known Catra since before she can remember, and she can tell from her wary eyes that she is anything but.

“Are you thirsty? Hungry? I think we have some eggs leftover… it’s not the same as fresh-laid ones, but I can make a mean omelette.”

“Water is fine,” Catra says, sounding somewhat bemused at the offer. 

Adora guesses that it does seem rather absurd, offering to make brunch when there is so much else to do, so much else to talk about. But staying still isn’t in Adora’s vocabulary, and this turn of events has her wishing for any bit of peaceful domesticity that she can get. She puts four pieces of bread in the toaster anyway, unable to ignore her own stomach’s protests at not having eaten for thirteen hours.

Water acquired, she sets it down on the coffee table in front of Catra before sitting down on the armchair next to the couch.

“So…” she starts, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You have questions.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“I do,” Adora admits, “Like… why now? After all this time? It’s been two years, Cat.”

Catra’s hands clasp and unclasp. Adora can’t help but notice the fine tremors running through them.

“It. Took me a while to realize that you were right.” Catra finally says. Adora waits patiently for her to continue. Catra’s always had a way with words when it means she can manipulate others into doing what she wants them to, but talking about feelings is another matter entirely, “What you said —I knew it was bad there. Better than anyone. But we worked so hard, Addie. We were so close to making it out into the world on our own terms. Leaving it behind didn’t make sense, Addie. Not when Sarah could come after us.”

“It’s Adora now.”

“What?” Catra finally looks up from her hands, taken aback by the subject change.

“My name. It’s Adora now. Addie is fine, I guess. But I just wanted you to know. That’s why I left. So I could say that aloud. So I could just… be me. You have to understand that.”

“I think I do understand, now. It took me awhile, though. I guess I wasn’t as quick a learner as I always thought, huh?” Catra’s lips twist into a bitter smile at this as she briefly makes eye contact—a very rare thing for Catra, indeed. Rare and fleeting.

“It. It took me a long time to understand. That it wasn’t me you were trying to leave behind. Which is stupid, right? I mean, you asked me to come with you. But I wasn’t ready. I… realize now that asking you to stay wasn’t fair to you. And neither were the things I said when you refused,” Catra looks up from her hands a second time, “I’m sorry, Adora.”

Adora smiles. It’s a sad one, but a smile nonetheless.

“I never hated you, Catra. I wanted to, for awhile. It was easier that way. But you’re my best friend. In the end, all I ever felt was afraid for you. I’m sorry too, for leaving you behind. But you’re here now. So I have one more question for you: what do you want?”

Catra’s eyes are glossy, now, tears just beginning to form, “I think I wanna come home, if you’ll have me.”

Adora’s heart soars in her chest.

“Of course.”

The toast sits forgotten in an unplugged toaster, where it stays until Adora remembers to check a half hour later.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi wow this was a pretty quick update by my standards. My 24th birthday was a few days ago so this update was a bit of a present for myself.
> 
> I've thought long and hard about my feelings surrounding Catradora for the reasons mentioned previously and I've decided to put my misgivings aside and give it a try. Again, my discomfort wasn't surrounding the ship due to lesbophobia reasons as I myself am a lesbian, but rather the dynamic between the girls and Shadow Weaver and the more unhealthy dynamics of the ship. But this is a fanfiction, so I am hoping I can kind of subvert those dynamics and make for a healthier relationship between Catra and Adora. We shall see. Romance probably won't start until later in the series, though. This fic is all about healing from trauma.
> 
> I also want to note that I may use alternative names for the characters because the actual names in the series are a bit too on the nose for my taste. The main characters' names will remain unchanged, but I might change the names of supporting characters. I'm still thinking on it.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed! Please leave a comment if you did; they fuel me to write more.

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo, I am PUMPED! I've been planning this fic since the end of She-Ra like last month and wow am I excited to share this with y'all! As you can see, it's an AU. Kind of a college AU with found family themes and lots and lots of disability/race headcanons!
> 
> So I originally said that this wasn't a Catradora fic because up until now I wasn't super comfortable with the more unhealthy aspects of the ship, but I've decided to try and incorporate it later on in the series. In this installment in particular, though, Catra is just leaving an extremely abusive cult situation and is nowhere near ready for a relationship yet.
> 
> Anyway, please let me know if you like this fic! Again, I'm super excited to finally be sharing it!


End file.
